Lately I don't talk about anything
Lately I'm a mopey angry confused bag of bones
Stumble drunkly to my grave, can't shave off this old skin and toss it like a pile of
Clothes that don't fit me anymore
My jeans sagging 'round my ass and tearing at the seams
Cotten-fibre acid-bleached camouflage, tie-died to hide the blood dripping off of my hands
Never thought about my friends moving far away
Now there's a sea between us
Could call them up but I wouldn't know what to say
How is everything going?
I paint myself as a victim when we all watched
Her bleed my best friend dry
Constellations have changed, these news faces relate
But I can't tell just what they're thinking
She bled my best friend dry
Dryer than an emptied out 40 oz
Rolling 'round the dash as I crash into the
See you when our schedules have any opening
See you when there's nothing else to do